Firelight at Mustang Ridge (17 page)

“Historically, Midas and Murph are about even,” Sam said, “but when the wager involves public humiliation, Midas usually finds a way to come out on top. So I'm betting on him today.”

“Maybe I should bet on Murph, then. How about a side bet, just between us? Loser has to sing backup on karaoke night.”

“Sam!” A voice called from behind them, saving him from having to figure out how to get out of a bet that involved inflicting his so-called singing voice on the public.

Pivoting them both, Sam grinned with real pleasure at the sight of a wiry, hunched old guy with a walrus moustache and a thin fringe of white hair. “Chucky T. How the heck are you?”

“Still breathing, boy. Still breathing.” The old rockhound's faded eyes shifted, brightened. “And now I'm breathing faster. Who is this pretty lady?”

Tightening his arm around her waist, Sam said, “This is Danny. Danny, this is Chuck. He's a buddy of my father's from way back.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Chuck.” Danny gave the older man's arthritis-gnarled hand a gentle shake.

“And you, my dear.” He patted her hand, then shifted his attention back to Sam. “And Danny is . . .” He trailed off, turning it into a question.

Sam hesitated for a beat, flipping through and
discarding the options. Then, knowing it was Axyl's fault for putting it in his head, but surprised how good it felt, he said, “She's my girlfriend.”

Chucky T's face brightened. “Well, then, that's a fine thing, isn't it, boy?”

“I think so.” Though Danny was looking up at him with an expression he couldn't quite read, making him wonder if he had overstepped. Before the other man could make things worse by asking if it was serious, Sam said, “So what have you been up to? You still working that Colorado claim?” They chatted for a minute about places and people they used to have in common. It brought a twinge, talking about the old days, but Sam was used to that by now. Whenever he went to a show, it seemed he was bound to run into someone who knew him before. Tonight, though, he was equally aware of the woman beside him, shooting him sidelong looks that said she was wondering what he was up to, what he had meant by the g-word.

Thing was, he wasn't even really sure himself. But he didn't wish it back, either.

“How is Axyl doing?” Chucky T asked. “Is he still riding around on that bike of his?”

“You know it. In fact, he's here tonight, over by the big green tent.” Sam pointed to the back of the Babcock Gems setup. “I know he'd get a kick out of seeing you.”

“I'll head over there right now so me and old Axyl can swap some lies about fast cars and pretty girls like the one you've got here.” Chucky winked at Danny, then added, “Take care of her, boy. It's good to see you happy.”

“Thanks, Chuck. It's good to be happy.” Which
wasn't something he'd really thought much about before. He considered himself a pretty upbeat guy in general, but, yeah, he was a different sort of happy these days. He only hoped he hadn't made things weird just now or set himself up for a fall. Because history said that once he and a girlfriend got to the serious-discussion stage, it was the beginning of the end.

Danny was different, though. She understood him, wasn't looking to change him.

He hoped.

*   *   *

The walls weren't exactly closing in—the room was huge, after all, even with all the tables and people—but as the older man moved off, Danny couldn't quite catch her breath as the word
girlfriend
ricocheted around inside her head. Sam's expression was wary, but he had been the one to bring it up, and she had to say
something
, darn it.
“Sooo . . .”
she said, drawing it out and doing her best to keep things light. “Does that make you my boyfriend?”

“Seems only fair, doesn't it?” He said it easily enough, but his eyes measured her. “I mean, if I'm going to introduce you as my girlfriend, I guess that makes me your boyfriend. We're exclusive and we enjoy each other, right?”

With another guy, she might have thought he was angling to see how serious she thought they were, but with Sam, she was willing to bet that he didn't mean anything more or less than he was saying. Whiz wasn't the only one where what you saw was what you got, and she liked that she didn't have to guess when it came to Sam. More, she liked that he was happy taking things
day by day, because that was all she was really up for right now. So she wrinkled her nose and nodded. “Okay, you can call me your girlfriend, but only on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“I get a pet name.”

His expression cleared and a smile touched his lips. “You want me to give you one?”

“Nope, I get to call you by one. I'm thinking of Snookums.”

His eyebrows came down. “Not on your—”

“Pookie Bear? Snuggy Wumpkins?”

He closed the distance between them, so they were almost nose to nose, earning them a few curious looks. Lowering his voice, he said, “I prefer Stud Muffin. But whatever you do, don't call me Snookums.”

“Okay. Stud Muffin it is.”

“Good choice. That'll save me from having to call you—”

“Sam Babcock, is that you?” They broke apart as a bald guy about Sam's age came toward them, work-calloused hand outstretched. “How the heck are you? It's been forever!”

“M.J., hey!” Sam shook. “I'd like you to meet my girlfriend.” And darned if Danny didn't get a kick out of hearing him say it, even if it didn't really mean anything new.

T
he next morning, Danny let Sam sleep while she puttered around his kitchen, starting a batch of pop-up biscuits while Whiz followed her every move with his big, serious eyes, as if to say,
An egg sandwich is the least you can do after you left me home by myself last night
.

“You wouldn't have enjoyed it,” she told him as she laid bacon in a skillet that looked like it had seen its share of camping trips. “It was just a bunch of people standing around, looking at rocks.”

At least from the doggy perspective. To her, it had been a fabulous adventure—learning about Wyoming's geology was like taking on a new language, and it had been a major turn-on for her to see yet another side of Sam, as he worked the booth for the final hour of the show and sold two of the bigger crystal clusters for enough that Midas and Murph were going to have to sing a duet.

“There were pretzels, though,” she said to the hopeful-looking dog. “You probably would have liked them.” Then, because she was a sucker, she broke off a piece of cheddar and tossed it to him. “That's all you're
getting for now, though,” she warned. “The good stuff is going to have to wait until Sam gets up.”

She flipped the bacon, checked the timer on the biscuits, and debated between slipping back into bed to wake him with a kiss or letting him sleep a little longer. They had gotten in late, after all, and had finally dozed off even later, with his arm around her shoulders and her face pillowed against his neck.

She was glad she hadn't turned the girlfriend thing into a big deal. They were doing just fine the way they were.

“What do you say?” she asked Whiz. “Wake him up or let him sleep?”

As if in answer, her phone rang and Jenny's name popped on the screen.

“O-kay.” Danny drew it out, grinning. “I guess that's a vote for let him sleep.” Hitting the button to take the call, she said, “Hey, there! Did Krista and Shelby delegate you to find out how my first gem show went?”

“They did, but that's not why I called.”

“Oh?”

“Nick has a client that's interested in adopting Whiz.”

“He . . . Oh.” Danny's legs went suddenly wobbly, forcing her to lean against the counter. “Wow.” Alerted by her tone, Whiz crowded close. “It's okay,” Danny told him, sinking down to the floor and wrapping an arm around him.

“It is?” Jenny said.

“Not you. I was talking to the dog.”

“So it's not okay.”

“No. Yes. Shoot.” Danny pinched the bridge of her nose. “Give me a second here. This is good, right? It's
what we agreed on, and he's certainly ready to go be somebody's pet.” She tightened her grip on his warm, solid neck and pressed her forehead against his. “Who is it? Do you know them?” Even as she said it, everything inside her shouted,
No, no, no! Don't even think about it!

“Do you remember Magnus and Cathy Kees from the barn raising? I guess little Ike hasn't stopped talking about Whiz since then. They've been talking about getting a dog for a while, and after seeing how good he was with Ike . . . Well, they called Nick last night to see if he was still available.”

“Oh.” That made it even worse, because he'd do just fine with them. Better than fine. He'd have his own little boy to play with. They were good people, with their own place in the foothills. He would probably love it there.

But she would hate not having him around. She had gotten used to his slurping tongue, his galumphing feet, and his big brown eyes. She liked the way he tried so hard to follow along when she talked to him, and how when they were leading a group out into the backcountry, he scouted ahead and alerted her to tracks and spoor. And, darn it, she had even gotten used to him hiding behind her when he got scared, trusting her to take care of things.

“So . . . is he?” Jenny asked. “Available, I mean. Because as far as Nick and I are concerned, you've got first dibs. That is, if you want him.”

“Yes,” she blurted. “Yes, of course!” Because although she hadn't been planning on keeping him, she suddenly couldn't imagine not having him around.

“Yes, he's available, or yes, you want him?” But Jenny's tone said she knew exactly what Danny meant.

“I want him. Tell Ike and his parents that I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . .” She sucked in a breath, laughing as Whiz picked up on her change in mood and bounced up to lick her face. “Hang on. Knock it off. Gah!”

“Is that the whole message?”

“No!” As excitement bounced through her, Danny fended off her dog—Whiz was
hers
, how cool was that?—and struggled to her feet. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she said, “Nick can find them another dog, right?”

“Absolutely. Don't worry about it for another second. Whiz has been yours since just about day one.”

“Maybe night one,” Danny said, thinking of the thunderstorm. “But, yeah. We're a team now, and I want us to stay that way, no matter what happens next.”

“What happens next is that I call Krista and Shelby, and the three of us hook up to celebrate your new family member.”

As Sam stepped into the doorway, shirtless and bed-headed, wearing a pair of faded sweats low on his hips, Danny's pulse kicked up a notch. “Give me a few hours, and then I'm in.”

“Oh? Do I want to know what's going to be keeping you busy in the interim?”

“Use your imagination. I intend to.” Danny cut the connection, dropped the phone into her pocket, and crossed to her man while Whiz frisked between the two of them, tail wagging furiously. “How much of that did you hear?”

One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Enough to
know we've got something to celebrate.” He caught Whiz's face between his palms. “Did you hear that, big guy? You've graduated to a permanent position with Danny here, you lucky dog!” He reached out and drew her against him, nuzzling her hair and surrounding her with his sleepy warmth. “Congratulations. It's a big step.”

She started to nod, then laughed at herself. “You know what? It doesn't feel like a big step at all. It's more like I made the decision a long time ago, and am just now getting around to saying it out loud. Kind of like . . .” She trailed off as her stomach did a quick flip-flop.

His arm tightened around her. “Kind of like what?”

She sighed. “Kind of like knowing I need to call my parents and tell them that I'm probably not coming back to Maine. Which is
not
going to be fun.”

*   *   *

Danny meant to phone home that day but got sidetracked by egg sandwiches followed by a return to the bedroom. After that, sated and loose-limbed, she met the girls for a celebratory lunch. And after
that
, she and Sam rode out to Misty Hills to help Axyl and the others finish getting the camp ready for Rockhound Week.

Finally, though, back at the ranch and out of excuses, she sat down in Krista's office with her laptop, to make the call to her parents. Which, it turned out, was a day too late—because when she opened up her e-mail, the first thing she saw was an e-ticket for a flight back home, leaving in less than forty-eight hours. Below it was a formal proposal for her to develop the shop's Internet business and handle the advertising, complete with a generous salary, a flexible schedule, and a new
bike. Apparently, her mother had decided she should get into road racing next.

Instead of irritating the heck out of her, the sight had her misting up. “Oh, boy. This is going to be even worse than I thought.” Not because they had the right to order her back to Maverick Mountain, or because she was tempted, but because this was their version of love.

Whiz gave a low whine from the corner of the office, where he had curled up on Klepto's bed.

“Exactly,” she said, feeling like giving a little whimper herself. Instead, she made the call.

It blinked live on the second ring, as if her father had been waiting for her—which maybe he had, given the plane ticket thing. He was at home, his face framed by the familiar cabin walls and a giant display case that overflowed with ribbons, medals, and trophies.

“There she is!” he exclaimed, as if he'd been searching for her. Then, turning away from the camera, he called, “Bea, Charlie, Jase, come in here. Danny's on the computer!”

Oh, great,
Danny thought, heart sinking. It was going to be a family affair then, complete with her sister's boyfriend. Not that she had anything against him, but . . . But nothing, she decided, forcing her mood back where it had been—determined and affectionate. Because she was rapidly learning that being independent didn't just mean doing what she wanted. It also meant making hard decisions, and owning them.

“So? Did you get our e-mail?” her father said as the others gathered in behind him, their expectant faces making it seem like the stiff, stilted business proposal had been a happy surprise. Or at least her parents
looked at it that way. When she met Charlie's eyes, though, she got a thumbs-up and a mouthed,
Stay strong, Sister!

Which she was learning wasn't the same as going faster, higher, harder. Warmed by the unexpected support, Danny squared her shoulders and looked from her dad to her mom and back. “I love you guys. You know that, right?”

Whatever they had been expecting her to say, it hadn't been that. Her mother actually drew back, as if afraid that whatever had gotten into her older daughter might be catching. Her father, though, looked suddenly sad. Which was a hundred times worse. “We love you, too,” he said, though it wasn't a word that was used often in the Traveler family. “Which is why we want you to come home and let us help you get back on your feet.”

“My feet are fine right where they are.
I'm
fine here. Better than fine, even.”

He studied her. “But . . . ?”

“No buts. I'm happy here. And I'm sorry, but I won't be using that ticket.”

“What?” Her mother's face blanked, as if she hadn't even considered the possibility. “But it's nonstop. Do you know how much that costs?”

“I'm sorry,” she said again—and she really was. She didn't
want
to make them unhappy . . . but Three Ridges already felt more like home than Maverick Mountain had in a long time. “You should have asked first. I hope you can get a refund.”

“We can reschedule—”

“For a visit, sure,” Danny said firmly, “but I'm not
moving back, and I'm not taking over anything at the store.” The words threatened to stick in her throat, especially when her father's face fell into worry lines that made him look suddenly old. But she continued, saying firmly, “I'm staying here in Wyoming.”

It was the first time she had said it straight up, without a
maybe
or an
I'm thinking about . . .
But just as the decision to keep Whiz had been an easy one when Jenny pushed her on it, saying the words felt right. She was happy here. She wanted to make a life here.

“Danny!” Her mom raised a hand to her mouth, honestly shocked. “You can't be serious. We
need
you!”

“I'll visit, I promise, and you're always welcome here.” Her parents hadn't left the East Coast in twenty years, and didn't like to close the shop, but she thought Charlie and Jase would come. “It's beautiful here, in a different way than Maine.”

“It's not about seeing each other. It's—”

“You're all alone out there,” her father cut in. “You need to be back here, with your family.”

Danny wasn't sure when she had gotten to be the square peg of the Traveler clan—maybe it had been the accident, or maybe she had been headed in that direction for a while. Heck, maybe that had been part of why she and Brandon hadn't clicked all the way. Perhaps even that far back there had been something about her that said she wasn't in the right place. She didn't want to hurt them by saying that, though, especially to her dad. “I've got friends here, and a good job.”

“You've got friends and a job here, too,” her mom insisted, her voice gaining the raspy edge that said she
was losing patience with the conversation. “You're being ridiculous, Danielle. It doesn't make any sense for you to—”

“Whoops!” Danny said, catching sight of Krista in the doorway. “Listen, guys, I'm sorry, but I need to hang up now. We're doing a presentation in a few minutes. I'll call you in a few days and we can hash this out.”

“Hang on a second!” her father said, looking incredulous. “What do you mean a few days? Call us after the presentation. This conversation isn't over.”

The part of her that once upon a time would have done just about anything—climbed higher, pedaled faster, skied harder—to hear him shout, “That's my girl!” wanted to say of course she would call back. But if she had learned anything over the past two years, it was that she couldn't control what other people felt about her. So instead, she said, “Sorry, but I need to pack tonight. We leave for the backcountry first thing tomorrow, and won't be back until the end of the week. I'll call you then, okay?”

He blustered, “For God's sake, Danny—”

“That'll be fine,” Charlie cut in, to everyone's surprise. Leaning over their father, she hovered her finger over the disconnect button. Shooting Danny a wink that was just between the two of them, she said, “Bye, Sis. Have fun camping.”

Then the screen went dark.

Danny stared at it for a few seconds. “Okay,” she said. “That wasn't so bad.” And the bad parts weren't on her, really. She hadn't done anything wrong. Still, no matter how old you got, and how far you flew from the nest, it still sucked to butt heads with your parents.

Krista propped a shoulder in the doorframe, all sympathy. “Sorry to barge in. You didn't have to hang up on my account.”